


for her

by nowrunalong



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/F, POV Second Person, Post-Episode AU: s02e13 Doomsday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-13 00:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11173401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowrunalong/pseuds/nowrunalong
Summary: If you’re honest, you never thought you’d find love again. Not when it was so right the first time. Not when you'd truly believed, the first time, that it would never end.





	for her

**Author's Note:**

  * For [perfectlyrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectlyrose/gifts).



If you’re honest, you never thought you’d find love again. Not when it was so right the first time. Not when you'd truly believed, the first time, that it would never end.

But it ended, as all things do, and after a while, so did your hope of finding him again.

Him.

Love.

Two words that had become synonymous in your mind. God, you’d loved him more than anything. You would have left your family, your _world_ for him.

Instead, you’d left your universe. _His_ universe.

If love truly existed—and you’d believed it did, _really_ believed it—it had been sealed on the other side of an impenetrable barrier.

_What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?_

Of course, you’d been sure that _you_ were the unstoppable force. Nothing had stopped you before, after all. You’d crossed thousands of years and thousands of miles to be with him again.

And then came the army of ghosts. Then came Torchwood, and the war.

You’d continued to believe it for years afterwards, but it ended, as all things do, and after a while, you found her.

Her.

Love.

Two words you hadn’t combined before—at least, not like this.

She rolls over now, slipping a bookmark between the pages of her novel and setting it on the bedside table. “You’re watching me,” she says, giving you a questioning look. “Is my hair doing something funny?”

“Your hair couldn’t look funny if you tried, love. I was just thinking, that’s all.”

“Hmm. What about?” She props herself up on her elbows and gives you a proper smile, her face so open and honest with you, the way it isn’t with most people. You’d fallen in love with that face months ago now.

“You. You’re impossible.”

“How’s that, then?”

You shrug, unsure of how much you want to say. In the end, you settle for openness and honesty, just like she does with you. “I don’t think I was supposed to find you. I never thought… after the Doctor, I mean… I never thought I’d find anyone else. Didn’t think there _could_ be. Does that make sense?”

“Sure.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re just tryin’ to make me feel better, aren’t you?”

“Little bit. But I know what you mean.”

“Really?”

“I do. I’m not gonna explain it, ‘cause it would come out all sappy, but trust me, babe: I know how it feels to love someone so much that they’re all you see of the future.”

This makes you smile. “Really?” you ask again.

“Hmm,” she says, and leans in to kiss you.

You’re surprised at how much you need her right now. You fall down against the pillows together, and you reach to tangle your fingers in the hair at the back of her neck, pulling her even closer. You kiss for what feels like hours, slowly, til you’ve forgotten all of your sadness. Her name echoes in your mind.

_Clara. Clara. Clara._

It comes out in gasps against her mouth, and she grins, pulling back for a moment before moving to kiss your neck.

“I like it when you say my name like that,” she says, lips moving against the shell of your ear, making you shiver. “Might need to make you do it again.”

Then her hands are at your waist, pushing your T-shirt up.

“Off,” she says, and together you pull it up over your head, tossing it to the floor.

“Wait,” you hear yourself say. “You too.”

She lets you unbutton her shirt, and you move slowly, distracted by the smoothness of her skin and her self-satisfied smirk. Once her shirt has joined yours on the floor, she pushes you back down against the bed and straddles your thighs.

“Say my name?”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your jumping heartbeat.

“Clara.”

“Gonna need you to sound a _little_ more into me, babe.” She reaches up and cups your breasts in her hands, pinching your nipples between her fingers. “I love these,” she says conversationally. “Don’t you? The way you fit in my hands. It’s divine.”

“Please. Clara.”

“Hmm?”

“Need you.”

“Need me how, babe?”

She loves to hear you talk, especially when you’re not in a fit state to be forming words.

Her mouth is against your breast before you’ve had a chance to catch your breath or form any sort of answer

_Clara. Clara. Clara’s mouth._ Hot, wet, and her tongue, _God_ , soft, _teeth_ , teeth against skin, tongue circling your left nipple, then your right, then your left, and she’s pulling back, and then her mouth is against your breasts again, no teeth this time, no tongue, just soft kisses pressed against your chest, and you could lie like this forever with Clara, _your_ Clara, your…

“ _Clara_ ,” you manage, and it comes out like a sigh. 

She sits up, her fingers replacing her mouth against your skin, and smiles.

“Better,” she says. “Not quite what I’m looking for, but I've got a few more ideas."

It isn’t too long before you’re falling apart under her mouth, her fingers inside you, her name tumbling from your mouth with each shallow breath, your heart pounding so hard in your ears that you can barely hear yourself, can barely hear how loud you’ve gotten, but you can tell from the smirk on her face and the twinkle in her eye that you’ve cranked the volume to eleven, can tell from the way her tongue moves against you that she’s enjoying this just as much as you are…

Clara, Clara, _Clara_ , and your word-to-mouth filter has all but disappeared, all of your thoughts— _Clara, God, love, yes, please_ , mangled, incoherent—coming out in gasps as she curls her fingers, kisses you where you want her most...

It takes you some time to recover your breath, while she lies next to you on the bed, tracing soft circles on your arms with the tips of her fingers.

“Clara?” you say, when you feel you can speak again.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

She smiles. “I know, Rose, babe. I love you, too.”

You would have left your family, your world for him.

For her, you'll stay.


End file.
